Page 442 of Eternal
He flinches, and doesn’t believe me.
I reach for him, slowly, like I did for her the first time she let me touch her face.
“You’re going to go outside. People who can help are coming.”
He barely stares, like I’m not real, like he’s already somewhere else.
Then his lips move. Barely.
“Is… is the lady okay?” He’s still crying. “I… I didn’t mean to shoot. I didn’t… I didn’t even see… it just… it just went off.”
I should hate him… But all I can do is nod. Smile like it doesn’t kill me, because she would’ve forgiven him.
“She’s okay,” I lied. “She wanted to save you. So you better live. You better fucking make it mean something.”
His footsteps vanish down the hall, then, nothing. Just the crackle of fire somewhere behind. The soft creak of walls that have seen too much, I stay there, kneeling.
The air stinks of smoke and old blood.Hers.
Something in me is collapsing in slow motion, and I can’t stop it.
I stared at the spot where the boy had been, and I whisper, barely breathing:
“You saved them, baby. You really did.”
My throat burns. Then I pull out my phone. My hand is still slick with her blood, drying between my fingers, and I dial. 911. Vegas. Rings. One, two, three…Click.
A voice on the other end. “911, what’s your emergency?”
My voice comes out low, like I’m watching myself from somewhere else.
“There’s a house. Outside the city. Governor Callahan’s private estate. He’s alive. Tied up. You’ll find him on the front lawn.” I don’t wait for the pause. I keep going. “There are bodies. Guards. Guests. Evidence.”
I glance back, the dependency’s door is wide open now. Teenagers. Women. Survivors. Huddled near the edge of the road like they’ve forgotten what sunlight feels like. “In the back wing, there are minors. Girls, some boys. You’ll need trauma teams. CPS. Everyone.”
Silence on the line.
Then: “Sir, who is this? Are you saying the Governor…”
“I’m saying the Governor of Nevada kept underage kids and victims locked in his estate,” I cut in, voice flat. “And I have evidence.”
I breathe once. It hurts. Every breath.
“Get the feds. Get the press. Get your goddamn DA.”
Another beat, the dispatcher sounds like she’s trying to catch up. “We’re sending units now. What’s your name?”
I hang up, and I whisper to no one, “Let the world see who you really were, Governor. Let them all see what she died for.”
I walk back to the room behind this wall, where she’s still waiting for me.
And she’s laying on that bed, beautiful. My angel. Mytiredangel.I can’t…I can’t do this.
I lifted her again, gently. Her body rests against my chest, I carry her through smoke, past crying women, shivering teens, shadows that used to be people.
Some are walking into the night, barefoot. Some are waiting for help, sirens flickering against their stunned faces. Blue and red lights flood the estate.
I lay her in the passenger front seat, slow, careful, buckle her in, like she’s asleep. Brush a strand of hair from her face. “You wait for me, okay?”
